The Glossy, Drunken Miracle of Arkenia
"No, seriously, it really is cheap!"
Unlike certain dyes that required grinding rare ores or seashells to make, spray cans and paint were things I could summon with a single click of my points.
But of course, the gallery users didn't believe me.
"Ugh!"
And so, the Head Mod worship trend continued for quite some time.
It was a bit frustrating that they wouldn't listen to me, but...
"Well, everything turned out fine, so whatever."
They say even praise can make a whale dance. Before I knew it, a smile was tugging at the corners of my lips, so I just let them be.
"Now, should I get back to farming some points?"
At that moment, I truly believed I had returned to my peaceful daily life.
Lloyd, a soldier of the Eastern Legion, loosely held his spear in his left hand. His right hand, however, was busy frantically participating in the Gallery Report Contest.
"Just a little more. Just a little more..."
His cumulative report count had already reached two thousand.
He was frantically hunting down trolls, driven by the hope that this time, he might win one of the Head Mod's random food boxes like the others. But right at that moment—
"Uh... uh-oh?"
A clueless recruit beside him began to stammer in terror.
"Hey, shut up unless it's a big deal. If I win some tasty food, I'll share some with you for a late-night snack."
"U-Uh... Uh-oh!!!"
"Ah, seriously, are my words a joke to you? If this isn't a big deal, you're dead—"
Only then did Lloyd, the sentry, tear his eyes away from the gallery. A split second later, his face went just as pale as the recruit's, and he shrieked.
"Makkyaaaaaak!!!"
Beyond the plains, the Hum-Elf-Dwarf Alliance had appeared.
Three days had passed since Bernheiter's arrest. I had extended the duration of the Point Auto-Farming Contest—no, the Troll Report Contest—just a bit to ensure fairness.
"I'll wrap it up this afternoon."
And so, I was idly scrolling through the gallery today as well.
The chaos in Arkenia felt like a midsummer night's dream. It was a peaceful daily life, so quiet it made me yawn.
But then, suddenly, posts prefixed with "BREAKING)" began to flood the gallery.
"What's going on?"
I immediately checked the posts.
"Wait, is there really something more urgent than this?"
Lewd pictures were a matter of grave importance, after all. Of course, since this was a clickbait post, I slapped the poster with a one-day ban for their insolence.
"The Hum-Elf-Dwarves?"
The guys who had been chased away by the stampeding refugees had returned. And this time, they were fully prepared.
"Wow. Human knights, elf archers, and even dwarf siege engines."
It was an all-star team consisting of the strongest units from each race. On the other hand, our team...
"The Legion Commander who's supposed to lead them is arrested and locked up. The Magic Division is completely drained of mana after trying to use necromancy to kill me. The main skeleton force is busy painting themselves. And the auxiliary demon soldiers have been chugging beer and are completely wasted."
It was an absolute shitshow. How could they possibly win when the legion was in this state?
"Once the siege engines arrive, turtling in the fortress is practically impossible."
I knew the power of dwarven siege engines all too well from the GIFs occasionally uploaded to the gallery. They could smash through thick iron gates as easily as kicking wet cardboard.
"Looking at what they're bringing this time, they aren't just targeting the gates; they're planning to tear down the walls entirely."
They were clearly fueled by spite and determined to win at all costs.
"Should I write an announcement telling the refugees to evacuate first?"
I paused just as I was about to do so.
"Wait, is that even okay?"
Come to think of it, I was just a civilian. The position of Head Mod wasn't an official noble title or rank in the Demon Realm.
"What if some high-and-mighty nobles try to hunt me down again like last time because I meddled?"
Sure, I had the Gallery Barrier provided by the Operator. But there was no guarantee it could block attacks from someone with absurd, god-like power, like the Demon King.
"I should keep the tone as non-authoritative as possible, making it more of a recommendation..."
Just as I was about to write the announcement—
"What are these guys doing?"
A series of solemn, dramatic posts began to fill the gallery.
"Attention!!!" shouted a skeleton general standing atop the battlements.
The elite core of the Eastern Legion, the Undead Division, immediately snapped to attention.
"The enemy is approaching! Will you stand by and crumble to dust along with this fortress?!"
""No, sir!!!""
"Then will you abandon the citizens and flee?!"
""Never, sir!!!""
The general raised his sword high.
"The Head Mod, who punished our tyrannical Legion Commander for us, is watching! The Head Mod, who bestowed upon us a massive bounty of expensive dyes, looks down upon us! We have received his grace, so must we not repay our debt?!"
""Yes, sir!!!""
It was a truly solemn and heroic sight—except for the fact that the general's glossy, gold-painted skull kept reflecting the sunlight, flashing brilliantly and ruining the atmosphere.
The skeletons lined up in formation were no different. Colorful paint jobs were the bare minimum; some had even undergone highly dangerous "custom tuning" by embedding blades all over their bodies.
"March forth and fight! For the Head Mod! For the Demon Realm!"
""For the Head Mod! For the Demon Realm!""
The fortress gates swung open. The skeletons each posted a line or two in the gallery, as if writing their final wills.
"Even if we fall here, we shall never show our backs to the enemy! Forward!"
""Uwooooooooh!!!""
A thunderous roar echoed across the battlefield. Naturally, the Hum-Elf-Dwarf Alliance was taken aback.
"W-What is wrong with those lunatics?!"
"Our main force hasn't arrived yet! Furthermore, the enemy outnumbers us!"
"Shouldn't we fall back slightly?"
"Shut up!"
*Slap!*
Sir Henry, the Knight Commander of the Ared Empire, slapped his lieutenant across the face before mounting his horse.
"The enemy is nothing but a horde of skeletons. We just need to go out there and sweep them away!"
"Indeed, sir!"
Besides, this was the Eastern front, not the main battlefield. Unless they were facing the Demon King's Royal Guard, a mere skeleton division could easily be crushed, even by knights with a high ratio of raw recruits.
"All forces, charge!"
The knights began their charge. The moment the heavy armored knights leveled their lances and charged toward the skeletons—
*Flash! Flash!*
*Neighhhhh!*
"Aaargh!"
"What in the—?!"
The sunlight reflecting off the skeletons' skulls—which had been polished to a mirror sheen with glossy spray paint—combined with the sight of skeletons custom-tuned with spikes and blades all over their bodies, absolutely terrified the horses. The mounts refused to charge, rearing and thrashing wildly.
Naturally, the vanguard's formation collapsed, and the rear ranks following behind fell into chaos.
"Uwooooh!!!"
"The enemy is in disarray! Keep pushing!!!"
The cavalry charge had failed in the most absurd way possible.
"This is why humans are so foolish!"
"Regroup, everyone!"
The elves busily scrambled to adjust. However—
"Urgh! *Hic!*"
"What?!"
In the Eastern Legion, where the main force was undead, the ordinary demon soldiers—relegated to mere "auxiliary" status—had always endured contempt and disdain. They were constantly labeled as "cowards."
In a way, it was only natural. Skeletons felt no pain and shed no blood even when run through with weapons, whereas ordinary demons could suffer severe injuries or even die.
Thus, they had always self-deprecatingly referred to themselves as "just auxiliary troops" or the "coward brigade." But now...
"This is all thanks to the... *hic*... Elixir of Courage given to us by the Head Mod!"
"Yee-haw! I'm not scared of anything anymore!!!"
A perfect level of drunkenness had completely banished the demons' fear. Charging right behind the skeleton division, they bypassed the collapsed cavalry and rushed straight toward the elves.
"Damn it! Fire!"
"We can't shoot! They're tangled up with the humans!"
"Tsk! Draw your swords! They're just auxiliary troops!"
They might have been "just auxiliary troops," but the same applied to the elf archers once forced into close-quarters combat. Furthermore—
"There are too many of them!"
"Damn it! Is the main army still not here?!"
The elves were quickly overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Even when slashed and struck down, the demon soldiers kept pushing forward with manic grins. Terrified by their sheer madness, the elven recruits threw down their swords and bows and began to flee.
"Don't run! Damn it!"
"Retreat! Fall back!"
The human knights had completely collapsed as their ranks tangled. The elf archers had been routed after a reckless melee. The routed soldiers fled in utter disarray back along the path they had advanced.
"Pursue them!"
The tireless skeletons gave chase. The demon soldiers, who should have been exhausted, also forgot their fatigue under the power of alcohol and maintained a relentless march. And then—
"Hmm? You guys! Why are you running this way?"
"Get out of the way, you short bastards!"
"What?!"
The dwarves leading the main army were instantly triggered by the word "short" and drew their battleaxes. However—
"Chase them to the end!"
"Annihilate them all!"
The moment they witnessed the massive wave of skeletons and bloodthirsty demons flooding toward them, they...
"R—U—N—!"
...had to run for their lives on their short little legs.
That day, the reserve forces of the Alliance of Order suffered catastrophic damage and lost all of their equipment. And—
"...We won?"
"Is this really our victory?"
"This is all thanks to the Head Mod!!!"
The Demon King's army cheered, attributing the credit for two consecutive miraculous victories entirely to the Head Mod.
And as for me, who had been watching this entire scene unfold via the gallery's real-time broadcast...
"No way... How did that actually work?"
I completely lost the ability to speak, utterly dumbfounded by the absurd victory.
Even in that very moment, posts of worship were flooding the gallery in real-time.